


never say never

by CadenceH2O



Series: Cadowly's Songfic December [12]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Mentioned Goshiki Tsutomu, Mentioned Semi Eita, Salty Shirabu Kenjirou, Shirabu Kenjirou is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28090800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadenceH2O/pseuds/CadenceH2O
Summary: Day 16 of Cadowly's Songfic December!song | We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together - Taylor Swift
Relationships: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader
Series: Cadowly's Songfic December [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050188
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello I worked really hard on this Shirabu stans where u at please don't let this flop

»»——⍟——««

_I remember when we broke up the first time_

The memory that has resurfaced too many times rises up again, raised hands and voices in the periphery of your vision. You remember burning anger and overwhelming misery, the emptiness of the first break-up a throbbing pain in your chest. 

_Saying this is it_

“ _I’ve had enough_. You’re barely home, and when you’re home you don’t pay attention to anything I say, you just grumble about anything and everything!” You cried out in frustration, hoping, praying that his expression would soften and he’d apologise and realise just how much affection you had been lacking lately. 

Much to your growing disappointment, a roll of his eyes were all you got. “You’re overreacting.” He scoffed. “You know that I have a busy schedule at the hospital. I’m tired when I get home. And sometimes it’s more convenient to sleep at the hospital.” 

_Cause like_

“ _We haven’t seen each other in a month_!” You screamed, tears flowing down your cheeks readily now. “I know I’m low maintenance, Kenji, but I still need a little love now and then too!” _When was the last time the two of you slept in the same bed?_

That was the bottom line, his patience breaking like a twig as he turned to you with furious, cold eyes that slammed into you with the force of a deadly-sharp iceberg. “Then leave!” He snapped. “Find someone better! I dare you!” 

_When you said you needed space_

“I think we should spend some time apart.” Kenjirou told you, his voice cold and void of emotion. “I just need a break.” 

_Then you come around again and say_

It was 2am, your hair tousled and doing its’ best impression of a bird’s nest. “Kenjirou?” You squinted at the man who had rang your doorbell five times in succession in the middle of the night. “What are you...” 

“ _Baby, I miss you and I swear I'm gonna change, trust me._ ” His words were slurred and slanted in italics as he tried his best not to stumble over the raised step of your apartment entrance. 

Sighing and rubbing your exhausted eyes, you opened the door to let him in, the both of you the perfect pair of sleepy and drunk as you tried your best to navigate a straight route to the couch. “How much did you drink.” You mumbled, glancing at the satisfied, sleepy smile stretched across his features- He had passed out the moment he hit the couch. 

_Remember how that lasted for a day_

“ _I hate you!_ ” You screamed. 

He scoffed. “Whatever.” 

_We break up_

_You call me_

_“I love you_.” Kenjirou mumbled through the phone, his voice sleepy and _definitely_ drunk. You sighed, hanging up on him as you wearily glanced at the time on your bedside clock. An image of Kenjirou, burning his throat with liquor despite knowing the bad effects it had on his body seared through your mind. 

He always drank when he had a bad day at the hospital, you thought to yourself. It was always when he believed that he had messed up and wanted to drown out the judgemental voices that rang inside his head. 

_Ooh, we called it off again last night_

Huffing, you made up your mind, clambering out of bed to jerk on some garments that were more suited to the cold near-winter atmosphere outside. 

“That’s enough.” You plucked the bottle out of his hands, the spare keys to Kenjirou’s apartment jingling in your other hand. You counted five empty bottles on the coffee table, plus two more next to him and one that you were holding. “God, you’re going to have a terrible hangover tomorrow.” 

He mumbled something incomprehensible, slumping over with tired eyes. “I don’t deserve to be a doctor.” 

“... And why do you think that?” Sighing, you placed the bottle on the coffee table, crossing your legs into a pretzel-shape as you plopped onto the carpet, watching your drunk ex’s insecurities take over him. 

“I’m incompetent.” He mumbled. “I messed up with a patient today.” 

“How bad was it?” 

“... Bad enough.” 

“... Surely it can’t be bad enough for you to drink your common sense away? You know how bad alcohol is for you, Shirabu, for the love of _god_ please take care of yourself!” 

Before you could finish your lecture, he had already knocked out due to sheer tiredness, a sigh dripping from your lips. Draping the blanket over him, you walked into his kitchen, clicking in disapproval at the state of his near-empty fridge. 

_But ooh, this time, I’m telling you, I’m telling you_

Despite the lack of ingredients he had in his kitchen, you managed to cook up a chicken soup for his incoming hangover, leaving a note telling him to pre-heat it before he drank it. 

“Y/N.” 

His fingers were latched around your wrist as he looked up at you sleepily, the bottles that you had came to throw away forgotten. 

“Stay.” 

His sleepy, copper-brown eyes stared up right into yours, a mixture of sadness and loneliness. The cycle was starting again, you thought. If you stayed, by the time morning came, the two of you would go back to yelling at each other, screaming hurtful words that tore at each other until you left the fight unresolved and boiling in your hearts. 

“No.” 

_We are never ever, ever getting back together_

You yanked your hand away, picking up the remainder of the bottles on the couch, where Kenjirou was splayed out with an unsatisfied expression. “Fine.” He grumbled, oddly child-like in his drunk state. 

_We are never ever, ever getting back together_

The lights in Shirabu’s apartment flicked off, bathing the walls in darkness as the resounding _click_ of the door echoed mournfully. You drew your phone out of your pocket, tapping on a number you had texted too many times during nights like these. 

_You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me_

> [L/N Y/N] 23.14

> _Sorry to bother you, Kawanishi-san, but could you check up on Shirabu tomorrow morning? He got drunk again tonight..._

> [Kawanishi Taichi] 23.16

> _Ah, got it_

> _I don’t mean to intrude or anything but... Do you ever get tired of him calling you whenever he’s like this?_

> [L/N Y/N] 23.19

> _Well... Yeah, I guess so, but... I can’t just leave him knowing he’s drowning himself in alcohol, you know?_

> _He’s never really known how to take care of himself_

> [Kawanishi Taichi] 23.21 

> _Lol yeah I guess that’s true_

> _I’m guessing you want me to delete the call record from his phone per usual, right?_

> [L/N Y/N] 23.23

> _Haha... You know me so well_

> _It’s best that he doesn’t know he calls me when he gets like this_

> _Oh, and also tell him that you made him chicken soup_

> [Kawanishi Taichi] 23.26

> _Seriously? You made him soup?_

> [L/N Y/N] 23.27 

> _Well, he’s got work tomorrow, he’s going to want to do something about that hangover he’s going to get_

> _I need to drive, thanks again Kawanishi_

> [Kawanishi Taichi] 23.29

> _I should thank you, lol I wouldn’t know how to deal with him if he called me instead_

Kawanishi switched off his phone with a tired sigh. _Darn that stubborn ass man_ , he cursed under his breath. _He would rather drown himself in alcohol than admit he missed Y/N._

_But we, are never ever, ever, ever, getting back together_

Glancing at your car mirror, where Shirabu’s apartment was gradually becoming smaller and smaller, you decided with a firm nod that if you were going to move on from Shirabu- No more picking up calls from him. 

_Like. Ever_. 

»»——⍟——««

_I’m really going to miss you picking fights_

It had been a bad day at the hospital. For some reason, screaming at you always helped the acid inside him oxidise into something less toxic, and now he was wishing you could be by his side, your eyebrows slanting in a little worry and a little frustration. 

_And me falling for it screaming that I’m right_

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re oversensitive!” He remembered snapping at you in one of your more heated arguments. Red flushed across your face as you bit your lip, refraining yourself from saying anything more cutting that would only serve to drive your relationship even closer to the edge of the jarring cliff. 

_And you hide away to find your peace of mind_

“I’m going to spend the night at my friend’s place.” You mumbled, pushing past him and choosing to end the argument without another word. The front door creaked condescendingly at him, berating him for being so blunt and rough with you yet _again_. 

_With some indie record that's much cooler than mine_

> [Shirabu Kenjirou] 20.01

> _Want to go out for drinks tonight?_

> [Kawanishi Taichi] 20.03

> _Let me guess, you’re missing L/N again?_

> [Shirabu Kenjirou] 20.04

> _Do you want to go out for drinks or not???_

The club music was loud enough to drown out the pesky thoughts of you that were running around his mind like flies. The liquor burned down his throat, but the sting was nothing compared the one in his heart. Flashing lights made his head pound, but he ignored the pain in favour of the momentary bliss of not having you in his thoughts. 

“Are you here alone?” 

He didn’t even want to look up. Disgust seeped into his features as he circled the rim of the glass with one finger. You would never use such a sultry tone on him, he thought. “Yes, I’m alone, and I’d prefer for it to _stay that way_.” He snapped, giving her a momentary, sharp glare.

The woman walked away with a scoff, muttering something along the lines of ‘How rude’ and ‘Could’ve just said no’. 

“What did you say to her?” Kawanishi asked with a laugh as he settled into the seat next to his best friend, having brushed past the furious woman on his way over. “She looked pissed.” 

The doctor shrugged. “She was being annoying. And-” He shut his mouth before the words came out, but judging from the cocky smile Kawanishi was sporting, he knew _exactly_ what he was about to say. 

“She’s nothing like Y/N?” The man suggested. 

“Shut up, Kawanishi.” 

_Ooh, you called me up again tonight_

Moving on was, as you found, incredibly hard to do when your ex-boyfriend called you by default whenever he was ever slightly drunk. 

“Can you pick me up? I’m a little drunk and I can’t find Kawanishi. Trust me, I’ve tried everyone.” _Please get the hint that I just want to see you, please-_ The string of pleases’ turned out unhelpful, because no matter how hard Shirabu prayed- 

_This time I’m telling you, I’m telling you_

“Shirabu, just call a taxi for god’s sake. I have things to do, you know.” Your dry tone was like a splash of cold water to his face, drenching him in shock as he stared at the call that you just hung up on. 

You had made up your mind. 

_We are never ever, ever, getting back together_

“So, how did it go?” Kawanishi raised a curious eyebrow, ordering another drink from the barista as Shirabu slumped into one of the seats with a sour look. 

“Hung up on me.” He gritted, demanding a drink- Any drink- One that could burn his pride away, one that could wash the pain away, one that could erase the longing for you. 

His best friend shrugged. “Well, I can’t blame her.” 

“You’re not helping.” 

“You know, if she’s moving on, you have no choice but to move on, too.” 

_I used to think that we were forever ever_

Moving on seemed like a foreign concept to Shirabu. Every word you said was ingrained to his brain like an ancient tablet with inscribed words. ‘Shirabu’, you said. ‘Shirabu’, you said, like he was a stranger. ‘Shirabu’, you said, like the two of you hadn’t stuck through your roller coaster of a relationship together. 

What happened to being your boyfriend, ‘Kenji’? 

_And I used to say, never say never_

You stared at the ceiling, your phone screen still the one that showed the call you hung up on. ‘Kenji’, the caller ID said. 

You hesitated when your phone asked you for confirmation, pressing ‘Okay’ when they asked you if you wanted to delete ‘Kenji’s number forever. 

»»——⍟——««

“Is this L/N Y/N?” 

You paused for a moment. “Yes. How can I help you?” 

“Dr. Shirabu has collapsed at the hospital.” 

A silence rang deafeningly as you sucked in a breath, hissing at faint throb his name brought to your heart. “... And why are you telling me this?” 

“Ma’am, you’re his emergency contact.” The nurse told you, confusion clear in her voice. “Could you come pick him up? He’s fainted from exhaustion and he’s been told to take the rest of the week off.” 

You bit your lip as you considered your options hesitatingly. You hadn’t seen Shirabu in three months after told him to take the taxi home... Should you pick him up? 

[The story separates into two endings from here: Angst (No) and sort-of Fluff (Yes)]

»»——⍟——««

[No.] 

Your mind made up, you steeled your voice, trying not to give away the fact that tears were pattering down your cheeks like rain on a windowsill. “Sorry. I’m outstation right now. Maybe you could call Kawanishi Taichi instead? I can give you his number.” 

»»——⍟——««

[Yes.] 

You sighed. Despite being a doctor, Kenjirou never seemed to know how to watch after his own well-being. “Alright. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

The drive to the hospital plagued you with a hurricane of mixed emotions, a storm brewing inside your chest as you tried to think of what to say to him. Why were you his emergency contact? Didn’t he have anyone else- Kawanishi? Semi? Goshiki? On second thought, the only person he would’ve picked out of the three would be Kawanishi- Maybe he just forgot to change it after the two of you broke up for real. 

“He’s still passed out.” The nurse that had been on the phone with your earlier explained. “He hasn’t been sleeping well for three months now, but he insists that he’s fine. Until today, that is.” She sighed. “He just passed out in the middle of the corridor.” 

_Three months_. You mumbled to yourself. The amount of time since the day the two of you cut things off cleanly. 

The door to the hospital room swung open, your heart dropping at the pale-looking Kenjirou that lay unconscious on the bed, a frown etched across his features. 

“He won’t wake up for a while.” The nurse told you apologetically. “He was up a few minutes after he collapsed but...” She fidgeted nervously. “Um... I dosed his water with Zolpidem. He needs rest.” 

“Ah.” You cleared your throat. “In that case, do you think you could help me move him into my car?” 

»»——⍟——««

“Why are you here?” Came Shirabu’s demanding tone as he stumbled out of your bedroom, his copper-coloured hair disheveled from how much he had tossed around the last night (You had considered tying him down). 

“This is my apartment.” You deadpanned, brewing a cup of coffee in the kitchen. “I _live_ here.” 

He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find a suitable retort. “Then why am _I_ here?” 

“Because you couldn’t be trusted to take care of yourself and passed out in the middle of your shift.” You snorted. “The hospital called me. Apparently, I’m your emergency contact. Oh, and before I forget, you’re suspended from work for a week.” 

“ _What_?” 

“Would do you some good to get some rest.” You retorted, taking out a bowl of pre-cooked soup from the fridge. “You’re so pale you could pass off as a vampire. Sit and wait. I’ll reheat some soup for you.” 

He had no choice but to obey when you shot him a warning glare, dismissing any of his protests. Running a hand through his hair, he watched you as you bustled around the kitchen, occasionally taking a sip from your coffee mug. 

“Here.” Plopping down on the seat next to him, you shoved the bowl of warm chicken soup in his direction, accompanied by a spoon. “Drink up.”

“Thanks.” He mumbled, taking a sip of the soup. 

You hummed in response. “Have you been having trouble sleeping lately?” 

“Why?” He sounded defensive, eyes snapping wide as if someone had shocked him with electricity. 

“Well, the nurse told me you looked like you haven’t slept in three months, and you _do_ look like you haven’t slept in forever- Plus, you kept tossing around last night.” You said thoughtfully, leaning back on your chair. 

Looking away from you, as if he was afraid you’d see the truth in his eyes, Shirabu huffed. The apartment rang deafening volumes despite how neither of you knew what to say, Kenjirou staring at his soup until he decided to be honest. “I haven’t slept well since you left.” He admitted quietly, suddenly finding his reflection in the soup very interesting. 

Silence decorated the space between the two of you, neither of you knowing how to continue the conversation. 

“Oh.” You said awkwardly, taking a sip of your coffee. “Um, can’t you take sleeping medicine for that? What was it, um, Zolpidem?” 

“I did.” 

_That’s great_ didn’t seem like an appropriate response; _I see_ seemed incredibly cold; _Oh_ would only prolong the awkwardness of the conversation. 

“I... Haven’t gotten drunk ever since you hung up on me that night.” He added quietly, still studying his reflection in the soup. “I’ve been sober ever since.” 

“That’s... Great.” You managed, taking another sip of your coffee. 

He searched in the air for your eyes, looking a little like a runaway mental hospital patient as he blurted out: “Can we- Can we try again?” His face flushed as he met your flummoxed reaction. “I know what we had before was...” He fumbled around for the right word. “Borderline toxic,” He admitted, “But I promise I’ll try for real this time, and- And I’ll come home, and I’ll be nice-”

Shirabu stopped in the middle of his rant, wanting to open the large kitchen window opposite him and jump out, hopefully killing himself from the thirteen-storey fall. 

He took a deep breath, pacifying his suicidal urges. “I- Kawanishi can’t make chicken soup for his life. And he’s a terrible liar when confronted.” 

“Oh.” That seemed to be your default response now. 

“Look, I was an idiot before.” He said, sounding strained. “I was an idiot for not treating you right and I realise that. If you- If you don’t want to take me back, I’ll get out right now because I completely understand where you’re coming from, but if you could give me one- One chance, I’ll give it everything I have, I promise-” 

You cleared your throat. “I’m going to have to stop you there.” He didn’t bother hiding his dejected expression at your words, his shoulders slumping and you could’ve sworn the bags under his eyes got darker. 

“If we’re going to do this again, you’re going to have to start from the top.” He looked up so fast that you were genuinely concerned about how his neck didn’t snap. “You’re going to have to court me, ask me on dates, yada yada yada. I’m not promising anything except the fact that I’m willing to give it a go. Got it?” 

A soft smile spread across his features, and for the first time in three months, Kenjirou looked slightly happy. “I’ve got the whole week off, don’t I? Plenty of the time to plan our first date.” 

“To think I promised myself that I was never getting together with you again.” You groaned softly, leaning back into your chair. “You better make this worth it or I’m going to kick your ass.” 

He took a sip of the chicken soup. “Tastes exactly like the one Kawanishi made me.” He commented with a slight smirk. 

“Oh, shut up!” 

_Never say never._

»»——⍟——««


	2. never means never (angstier ending.3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angstier third ending to the prequel, 'never say never', credit for the idea goes to user DreamFlyHigh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> user DreamFlyHigh on ao3 suggested an alternate alternate ending that is even more angstier, took a while but here it is :333 Enjoy

»»——⍟——««

The steady rise and fall of Shirabu’s chest brings you to a state where you’re torn between kissing the _hell_ out of him (because you would be lying if you said you didn’t still have feelings for the man passed out on your bed with an asymmetrical fringe) and wanting to leave the country so you’d never see him again. 

He looks so serene, for once, instead of frowning and narrowing his eyebrows in a displeased expression. If you squint, perhaps you can make out a _tiny_ upturn of his lips- Does that count as a smile? You’re not really sure. 

When would he learn to take care of himself, you ask yourself. Your relationship with Shirabu had been a rocky one from the very beginning, but at the very first stages of your love’s bloom, he had been... Caring. Constant reminders to eat healthily and to exercise dropped from his lips in a sharp tone, and eventually you learned to see past it to hear the underlying worry. 

Ironically, he was the one that didn’t seem to understand the concept of self-care. Even in the dark, you can make out the dark circles that line his eyes and the tiredness that lingers over his body like a ghoul, waiting to reap his soul. 

For a moment, you froze up when you picked up on the hospital’s call an hour ago, the words ‘You’re Dr. Shirabu’s emergency contact’ haunting your head like a taunt, louder than the DJ on the radio on a Sunday evening. The questions plague you, knowing that you’d never summon the courage to face him for the answers. 

_Why were you his emergency contact?_

_Did he have no one else?_

_Maybe he just forgot to change it after the two of you broke it off for real?_

A soft ding sounds from a phone in your apartment, and you dismiss it, your ears instinctively categorising it as a familiar noise. It’s only as you sit down on your couch with a warm cup of coffee that you realise the ding isn’t from your phone, because no notification calls to you from the bar of your phone. 

It’s Shirabu’s. 

You laugh bitterly. Even after months of separation, traces of days when the two of you lived together still lingers in the edges of your mind, waiting for you to let your guard down to prowl in and strike for the kill. Even after so much time, the definition of _Shirabu Kenjirou_ is still oh-so-familiar to you, so much that you dismiss his phone notification as yours because you’ve heard it so much, and you still recognise it. 

It hurts. 

You curse yourself for your inability to forget him, for the lack of self-restraint you have when you pick up drunken calls from your ex, for putting up with the meaningless mumbles that drift from his alluring lips on the drive back to his apartment. 

For how you make soup for his impending hangover and leave it in the fridge, for how you text Kawanishi so he can tell Shirabu that he was the one that drove him home, he was the one that made him soup. 

For how the thoughts of him prowl menacingly around the edges of your conscious mind. 

For how much you want to reach over and caress his face, for how much you want to scold him worriedly, berating him for how he overworked himself to the point he collapsed at the hospital. 

It’s then that the idea sprouts in your mind, the voice of the devil on your shoulder. 

_Delete your number from his phone, and he’ll never call you again when he’s drunk_. 

It’s as easy as taking candy from a child. You pluck his phone from where it rests next to him on the bed. You’d slipped it out from his pocket after you tucked him into _your_ bed. It never crossed your mind to look at his messages- You weren’t the type to pry. Pity. If you’d taken a peek, you’d see that his most recent conversation was with Kawanishi, about him coming to terms with the fact he was still in love with you. 

When his phone asked you if you were sure you wanted to delete the number belonging to ‘y/n’, you had no hesitance in pressing ‘confirm’. 

“Kawanishi, sorry to bother you. Shirabu’s passed out at the hospital, they called me to pick him up because I’m his emergency contact. He’s at my place now. Could you come send him home later? He’ll need someone to watch him for a bit.” 

You strengthened your resolve, your voice spelling ‘I’m determined to forget this man and not every talk about him again’. Whatever Kawanishi wanted to say was drowned out in the ending tone of the phone call as you plopped down on the couch, staring at the ceiling mindlessly, ignoring the soft breathing belonging to the man you spent too much time thinking about from your bedroom. 

‘He loves you,’ Kawanishi wanted to say, but he could tell that it was too late, and Shirabu had passed up the chance to have you by him for the rest of his life. 

Years later, you’d look back on this day as the day that you decided you were getting over Shirabu Kenjirou. The day that you decided never _means_ never, and that you were _never_ going to think about him again; _never_ going to pick his drunken calls again; _never_ going to send his sleepy, confused state home. 

One day, if you walked past him on the street, your hand interlaced with another man’s, you would glance away and reply to your partner: “Oh, no, I don’t know him.” 

One day, you would send off your wedding invitation to Kawanishi, who had become a friend of sorts despite the person who begin your connection to each other. And the next week, Kawanishi would forget that he left your invitation on the coffee table, and he would invite his former high school friends- And Shirabu- To his place for drinks. 

One day, Shirabu Kenjirou would just be the name you brought up when you told you grandchildren of your first heartbreak and warn them: Be careful who you fall for. 

Never _means_ never. 

»»——⍟——««

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs in evil* 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment to tell me what you think :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and tell me what you think!


End file.
